


Goodbye

by Laerkstrein



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laerkstrein/pseuds/Laerkstrein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the subject the same from all of them, she decides it must be important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8141700/1/Goodbye) on my FF.N account on 05.22.11.
> 
> Set after "Everybody Dies."

She still expects emails, the calls, the complaints and threats that should come with having had him as an employee. Even if she hasn't seen or heard from him in over a year.  
  
It had always been a part of their routine, and she still hasn't outgrown the idea that he might be lurking outside her door, trying to peer into her windows after her late night shower like the complete ass they both know he still is.  
  
There are still moments where she hopes to hear something, anything, even though she's told herself a thousand times over that she's a hell of a lot better off without his special House brand of insanity.  
  
Lisa stares at the computer monitor, anticipating the arrival of the family Christmas photos, the ones Julia promised months earlier. Maybe they'll come today, she hopes as she logs in. There are messages waiting for her from contacts, but not a one from her sister. All from old friends, those still trapped in the insane asylum that bears the name of hospital, and all with the same damned subject line:  
  
 _"House."_  
  
They can't expect her to handle him anymore. She's gone, moved away, moved on with her life to a happier, better place. It's not that old feeling of dread and embarrassment that comes with knowing him, though. Rather a pitfall in her stomach, the kind she's imagined would come about on the day his addiction killed someone.  
  
So she moves the cursor slowly, letting it rest upon one of the many emails that stare at her, daring her to take a look. Eyes closed, she clicks, waiting out the few seconds in which the message loads.  
  
When she opens them, it's nothing she could have anticipated.  
  
Not a letter, a complaint, a request for advice, but an article is what stares back at her. A torched building, a charred body that's been confirmed as his own, and words, blurred by the shock of the fact that she can't stop crying.  
  
Maybe, if she'd stayed, things would have been different. Maybe he could have gotten better, a long shot, or, at the very least, lived. Not gone ahead and died, burned, in some accident because he was hung over or strung out or whatever.   
  
But she had left Princeton, decided not to look back, and, at the one moment that she does, there's nothing to quell her instant regret.


End file.
